Ethan Ruby

Second chances during hunting, as is in life are hard to come by, but that never seems to stop someone from trying. That’s the story of “two-timer”, a bear we were fortunate enough to have a second chance at, even when we were against the odds.

To start off the spring, we made a few trips into our regular spots with little success in finding a target bear. I decided it was time to shake things up.

It was May 6th. This day is significant because two years prior I had taken my future wife bear hunting for the first time. On that hunt we were fortunate enough to connect on my biggest bear to date; An old boar we call “baldie” because of the distinctive rubbing he had on his snout and forehead.

After a bit of planning, we decided to attempt replicating that hunt. It was going to be our first trip into that area this spring, so our mindset was on scouting pipelines and cut blocks for bear activity.

With a late start to the evening, we hurried into our first location. Upon arrival, the bear sign wasn’t good. In fact, there was none. The grass was still very brown, with little new growth. No tracks were spotted or scat along the roads told me that the bears weren’t frequenting the area. It was back to the drawing board for us.

We turned back and headed into an area I knew for its great lines of sight, with many southern-facing pipelines and right of ways. If we were going to find activity, this was going to be the spot. A few kilometers in we rolled up to our first cutline. Bingo! Before I could even get the binoculars up, I spotted the first bear of the evening, about a kilometer away; feeding away on clover in the shade.

I quickly made a game plan and started the hike. The ground was soft and wet, with the wind in my favour. I figured this would be the perfect stock. As I moved up the cutline I lost sight of the bear. I moved quickly to gain some ground without being seen, but as I crested the next roll of the hill, the bear had multiplied. A set of last spring cubs had emerged from the trees for dinner. Before they knew of my presence, I backed off, with renewed hope that we were in the right area.

It was now around 7 pm and the bears were on the move. We started to venture to our next spot when we got a big surprise. As we crested the hill, I saw what every bear hunter hopes to see; a giant black blob in the distance. As soon as the binos came up, I knew.

“That’s the one,” I said to my fiancé, as we hurried out of the truck to cover. It was going to be a long stalk.

The boar stood and fed about 800 yards away. With little cover we tried to move down the right of way slowly, keeping an eye on this bear's body language. He meandered in the grass, with little care of his surroundings. We worked downwind of the bear with a slight height advantage. It was turning into the perfect stock.

At around 300 yards, the hill started to slope, and we were out of cover. I decided it was time to settle in for a shot. Without a rangefinder on hand, I judged the distance the best I could. I laid down and steadied my rifle. I knew the shot was going to be tough but I was confident. Once I was in position my rifle sat like a rock. Ready to go, I studied the bear in the scope for what felt like forever. The mental checklist was ticking off quickly. Big creased head, pronounced sturdy shoulders, paired with a hanging belly that seemed to touch the ground. I knew this was the bear I wanted.

With my fiance behind me running the camera, I asked for the go-ahead. She quickly gave me the word as she was more excited than I was. This really put the pressure on. I slowed my breathing and rested the crosshairs along his back. Being proficient with this rifle and having shot this distance no more than 3 weeks prior, I knew aiming at the top of his back would result in a perfect broadside shot.

I waited for him to turn and bang! The shot rang through my head as I watched him slowly turn and run through the scope. My stomach immediately dropped, I knew I had missed. The bear showed zero sign of being hit and in fact, he acted confused, having no idea where the shot had come from or what caused the noise that was my rifle. This crushed me, knowing I had done everything the right way up until the shot.

We packed up our gear and made the walk back to the truck. The sequence replayed in my head over and over again. When we reached the truck, I reviewed the footage to guarantee a clean miss. As I watched I was relieved to see I hadn't made a poor shot, but rather hit the dirt a few inches short

I was disappointed in the outcome, but the hunt was still on. With a few hours left in the evening, we were hopeful for another opportunity.